


JNPR Oneshots, AUs and Prompts

by Lionfire42



Category: John Wick (Movies), Metal Gear, PAYDAY (Video Games), RWBY
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Death, Animal Transformation, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Dark Comedy, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Torture, Multiple Crossovers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture, Rating May Change, Snark, Tags May Change, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-01-21 15:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12460866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionfire42/pseuds/Lionfire42
Summary: Team JNPR across the multiverse. Because it seems like they never get enough credit (as a team), and I love underdogs.





	1. John Wick AU

The Valean forests were quiet for once. The sound of Grimm were especially faint in this area; no surprise, considering who lived there.

This information was clearly not known by the group of teenagers swaggering down the road, high on youth, drugs, and a mission.

They were here to steal a car.

It was the idea of their leader, a boy by the name Egan Blanc. The son of a Vacuo crime boss, he was used to getting his way. So when some pink-eyed shit refused to sell the vintage juniper Valean Valiant he was driving, well…Egan wasn’t happy.

He smirked and pulled his mask over his mouth. This would be easy.

 

He was still smirking hours later. The heist had gone off well. The pink-eyed man had obviously been a Huntsman judging by the weapons, but his aura was weak enough that he was caught off guard when one of Egan’s boys smacked him over the head with a pipe. A bit of beating made Egan’s day and the choke of shock as his weapon cracked open some stupid puppy’s skull? Priceless.

He and his boys were lounging about a chop shop now, waiting for a well-known mechanic to change the VIN numbers on the car, so it could be safely driven.

The mechanic, a Faunus of the bull variety walked in. The look on his face made Egan pause. “Where,” the man said, his deep voice quivering, “where did you get that car?”

Egan looked at his crew. They shrugged, just as confused as him. He looked back at the Faunus. “Who gives a shit?”

The Faunus opened his mouth, and then closed it, seemingly lost for words. Eventually he found his voice again. “Did you kill them? The owners?”

“Owners? There was only one guy, some pink-eyed dipshit, him and a dog.” Egan regained his grin. “We fucked it up.”

The Faunus’ body gave a visible shudder. “Get out.”

“What-?”

A meaty fist impacted across Egan’s nose. “Get out!” The man’s eyes gleamed wildly under the garages harsh florescent lighting. “Get the fuck out!”

“You fuckin-“ Egan staggered to his feet, blood staining his shirt, his nose flowing freely. “We _own_ you, you shit!”

“Your father owns me,” the Faunus replied, regaining a bit of control over himself. “And he’ll understand when he hears about this. Now get the fuck out.”

 

The bull Faunus, whose name was Turon, sat at a table, his best Valean rum opened for this specific occasion. His glass was full for the second time, the first class having been nervously downed while he waited. The folding table was set for five, including him; four cushioned chairs and four of his best glasses sat waiting to be filled.

It became immediate when his guests arrived. The general chatter of his workers slowly died away, the buzz of saws and clanging of engine parts stopped. By the time the quartet reached his table, the garage was silent.

Turon’s eyes immediately shot towards one the four, a man with a blank face, his pink eyes devoid emotion, seemingly uncaring of the yellowed bruises on his face. The woman next to him was the opposite, brightly beaming at Turon himself, but in a way that seemed cruel and maniacal.

On the opposite end of the group was a woman with hair the color of blood, her green eyes so like poison, Turon feared he would drop dead should he stare at her for too long.

All three of them clearly deferred to the last man, a tall, lean, muscular man with shaggy hair like golden hay and blue eyes like sharpened sapphires. The blond man claimed a seat and the other three followed him. Turon poured out drinks, desperately praying the bottle wouldn’t slip from his trembling hands.

The blond took a sip, rolling the taste on his tongue and releasing a sound of approval. With a sigh of a man seemingly reluctant to get to business, he set the glass down looked Turon square in the face. “Is it here?”

Turon swallowed nervously, and took a gulp to wet his suddenly parched throat. “It was.”

There was a silent expectation that Turon would give information. Turon did not disappoint.

 

Later that evening, Turon received a call. He took a deep breath and answered. “Turon speaking.”

A thickly accented voice spoke smoothly over the line. “I heard you struck my son.”

“Yes sir, I did.”

“And may I ask why?” It was not a question.

Turon licked his lips. “Yeah well, because he stole Team JNPR’s car, sir. And, uh…killed their dog.”

“…..Oh.” The line went dead.


	2. Security/ Mall Cop AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not necessarily based off of the movie, but one of those random moments I stick these characters in.

She was getting closer to her prey. The clamor of others easily concealed her approach. She glided, uncaring of her surroundings. Her target would not get away, she was getting closer, closer….

“Nora?”

“AARRHHGG!”

Nora Valkyrie flailed wildly, attracting the attention of numerous customers. Her best friend and boyfriend, Lie Ren, was too used to her shenanigans to be too surprised. Still, property and protocol (literally, it was written down somewhere as one of his daily tasks) demanded he ask: “What are you doing?”

Nora puffed up importantly, stretching the top of her thin uniform. “I’m on the hunt for a thief!” she proclaimed, loudly.

Ren resisted the urge to sigh. “A thief?”

Nora nodded vigorously. “Yep! Some little punk stole a candy bar out of Macy’s!”

The Macy’s in question was one of the many department stores conjoined together in the Vale’s Beacon Mall. And if Ren’s mental map was correct (which was always), the Macy’s was a good fifteen minute walk from their current location. “So you’ve been tracking a kid for almost a quarter of an hour? Why didn’t you just confront him?”

The redhead scoffed. “You don’t just walk up to them, Ren. You make them sweat. You make them strain their senses to see if anyone is following them. You make them jump every time someone yells ‘Hey!’. And it’s only once the doors are in sight, when their starting to relax that you spring your trap and make them cry as their face goes on the Wall of Shame!”

Ren reflected, once again, that it was probably only a combination of their group’s former stint in the military and the goodwill and humor of Supervisor Ozpin that protected Nora from dismissal for her…eccentric personality. Goodness knows Goodwitch has tried.

“Nora…I don’t think you will catch your thief.”

“Why not!?!”

“Do you know where he is?”

Nora looked around wildly at the crowd. “Wha-?!? Ren, you made me lose him!”

Ren gave in and sighed. “I don’t think anyone will care that he stole a candy bar, Nora.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man casually swipe a phone case from a kiosk without breaking his stride. He contemplated giving chase, but….so much work.

Nora echoed his sigh, albeit far more dramatically. “I guuuueeeesss. Besides they would probably have to throw the candy away anyways.”

“Why?”

“Silly Ren! He put the bar in his pocket! So it must have been near his dick! No one wants a dick bar!”

A passing mother gave them a look of disgust and hurriedly pushed her stroller away.

Ren remembered the reason he’s sought his life partner out to begin with. “Hey, have you seen Pyrrha or Jaune?”

Nora perked up. “Oh yeah! Jaune was talking to Ruby in the Mrs. Fields, and Pyrrha was talking to Weiss in their store!”

Weiss and Ruby Schnee-Rose (because Weiss insisted her name be first) owned a wedding planner’s office in the lower floor of the mall. It was (of course) one of the largest stores and conveniently located next to Mrs. Field, much to Ruby’s joy and Weiss’ consternation.

Ren knew that though his fellow former marines didn’t often look it, Jaune and Pyrrha were dorks of the highest caliber. Or rather, Pyrrha didn’t look it, and Jaune had a way of surprising people. If he was a betting man (which he was, it was really a bad habit) then Pyrrha was doing everything in her power to make sure Jaune’s random hyper-competence didn’t result in their upcoming wedding taking place on a private island.

Pyrrha was the kind girl who looked like she should be on Victoria’s Secret and acted like her only desire was to live at Comic-Con. If it weren’t for the wishes (read: demands) of her Fortune 500 parents (who had never really forgiven her for running off to the military), her and Jaune’s wedding would consist of weeklong marathon featuring junk food, video games and Netflix.

Jaune was far more traditional, but in the good way. He wanted the traditional wedding, but only to the extent of Pyrrha’s wishes. So when her (and sometimes his) parents pushed, he let them see the face of a man who’d once lead his injured squadron over fifty miles of hostile territory, and once engaged an enemy sniper  over flatland with nothing but a combat knife.

Still, upcoming wedding bliss aside, Ren needed them here and now. “Let’s track them down. Knowing Pyrrha, she’s turned off her radio again.”

“And Jaune?”

Ren gave his girlfriend a deadpan stare. “When does he remember to turn it on in the first place?”

“Touché. What’s the situation anyways?”

Goodwitch wants us all to report to the break room in twenty minutes. She’s outlining this year’s plans.”

Nora blinked. “Plans.”

Despite himself, Ren gave an involuntary shudder. “The Holiday Plans.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take requests! Give me more ideas!


	3. Medieval AU (recommended by Darkkseid) Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prince Jaune, future leader of Arcadia, is helpless against his father's growing madness.

A prince was supposed to protect his people, to hear there cries and adjust himself accordingly, for the good of the kingdom. This was a lesson imparted upon Jaune from childhood.

But how was he supposed to protect the people from their king?

The crowd outside the Arcadian palace gates was held only at bay by the unmoving, unflinching armored guards that lined the entrance. Still it was a few good minutes before he and his ever faithful personal guard reached and everyone he passed had the same features. Gaunt, dirty and angry. Their bellies were getting thinner as the taxes grew higher.

Some threw themselves forward, begging for Jaune to change his father’s ways. Some begged for food; others, coin. Some spat at his feet and shouted curses.

Jaune couldn’t stand it. He swung himself down from his horse. His guards tried to stop him. “Your majesty-“

“I cannot walk above them like this. I feel their pain. Why must I place myself above them like some higher being? I trust you will protect me should the worst occur.”

The guard captain scowled then turned to his protégé. “Pyrrha-“

“On it, Captain.” Pyrrha immediately leapt from her horse and stood solidly and at attention by the prince’s side.

The group began walking again, and the shouts became less venomous as Jaune went from person to person, distributing gold, taking ration packs from the guards and giving it to those less in need. It was clear his action had thrown many off; after all, it was far easier to spit vitriol at one that seemed untouchable than one in your midst.

Pyrrha, lovely faithful Pyrrha stayed by his side, ever alert. She warded off the most bitter with her heated stares, and nearly broke the wrist of a man who tried to grab the prince’s shoulder.

By the time the group managed to get inside the gates, Jaune felt emotionally exhausted, and he hadn’t even gotten to the biggest headache yet. “Captain, have some soldiers pass out bread and meats from the larders to the crowd.”

“Your father will not be pleased, my prince,” the Captain warned.

“I will deal with him. But do please feed those people. They don’t deserve this.”

The Captain’s eyes softened. “It will be done my Prince. Corporal, maintain your usual post.” He gave a slow wink.

Pyrrha turned nearly as red as her hair, but still managed to pound her first over her heart in salute.

Jaune began to walk briskly though the halls toward the throne room, Pyrrha easily keeping pace with him. Their hearts clenched as they observed the behavior of the palace staff. Heads were kept down, people jumped at every noise. The very air felt cold and damp and dead. Jaune’s fists clenched. All this because of that _witch_.

He reached the throne room doors and watched them slowly open. He prayed that the scene would have changed, but it was not to be.

The amber-eyed seductress, she who called herself Cinder Fall sat in the throne on her father’s left, the one where his mother had sat but nine months prior. Her “assistants” were against the wall on her right: one had strange, green hair like her namesake and the eyes of a thief while the other one had a strange gait and a seemingly permanent cruel sneer.

The sight made him want to simultaneously draw his sword and hurl. Instead he strode forward and knelt, waiting for his father to acknowledge him. After several minutes he did.

“I assume you were wasting your time among the peasants again?”

Jaune forced down the flash of anger. “There were several incidents in the villages my Lord. The new…soldiers were far too overzealous with their…peacekeeping.”

His father scoffed. “They follow their orders well, unlike some I may name.”

Jaune stared at him, incredulous. “A family was murdered when they didn’t have the food to feed a group. The father’s very spine was ripped out, and those… _things_ forced themselves upon the mother before snapping her neck. They-“a lump rose in his throat before he managed to continue, “They dashed the son’s head against the mantle.” He sensed Pyrrha tense behind him.

He searched his father’s face, searching for the man who used to ruffle his hair, for the man who had cried each and every time he held one of his many newborn daughters. Yet no matter how hard he searched, Jaune could only see a monster.

His father shrugged. “One less traitor to plot against my rule. I have been assured that the Grimm are functioning just as expected.”

The Grimm were Cinder’s crowning achievement, or so she claimed. Suits of armor were dipped in a great pool of enchanted pitch and they rose from its depths, twisted and jagged and housing beast-like men with fur like tar and blood-red eyes.

Jaune wanted to weep. “Such magic is evil, father.”

His father looked furious. “Such magic will push Arcadia into legend. It will cement the Arc rule for millennia! It is greater than anything the _sorcerer_ has ever done.”

It the shadows of the throne, Jaune saw a flash of green. His heart clenched again as he locked anguished eyes with Lie Ren. Ren had been the apprentice to the Royal Sorcerer, and had grieved when the wise, kind man had died in his sleep, not long after the death of Jaune’s mother. He knew it had to be torture to watch Ren’s master’s legacy dragged through the mud, his innovations and power thrown away for whatever evil Cinder provided.

Jaune suspected (and had a feeling Ren did as well) that the old Sorcerer had not died in sleep. He suspected murder, and considering the timing of the man’s death and the queen’s mysterious illness, it all pointed to Cinder’s involvement.

But he could not shake his father. The witch had bewitched him, and he would not hear a word against her. His son could only watch as he descended further into madness, as became more and more convinced that legions of assassins were rising up among the populace to destroy him. And the kingdom could only watch as their King was slowly replaced by an Empress.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Darkkseid. Sorry Nora isn't in this chapter, but she will urn up in the next installment!
> 
> Don't forget to send in prompt ideas! And if anyone wants to turn these prompts and oneshots into stories, be my guest.


	4. Reincarnation AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JNPR is reincarnated, but not in the usual sense.

Ruby Rose felt…uneasy. Sure, you could argue that the feeling was simply pre-Initiation jitters or a lack of comfort cookies (they are a thing Yang, shut it!), but the sensation of being watched, or being pressed upon by an invisible presence was constant.

And it wasn’t just her. Her sister’s usually boundless confidence had tapered down, replaced with a sense of wariness. The mysterious Blake had disappeared from the ballroom as soon as possible, twitching, disturbed. Weiss’ already rigid attitude had gotten ever colder, so much so that Ruby feared she would freeze should she dare speak to the heiress.

Maybe it was the heiress causing this? This sensation had begun after the unfortunate encounter after all.

No, she realized. It had actually begun when she had been enthusiastically hauled from the ground by an armored behemoth. It had introduced itself as Jaune Arc, and proceeded to say a silly line, but all she could she was…something. At one moment it looked like a hardened warrior, then a youthful teenage boy and then a stern woman. And the aura. His, her, _it’s_ aura was dense and powerful and pure. It was like she had been filthy for a decade and decided to take a shower in a hurricane.

She had run away when he tried to speak to her. A part of her felt bad, but the majority of her felt relief. A potential friend wasn’t worth being around…whatever it was.

 

Weiss was a very stubborn individual, as were all Schnees, though they’d gut themselves before they admitted it. Stubbornness meant that something might not go your way and Schnees _always_ got their way.

Still, that somewhat unattractive trait was what got her into Beacon, despite her father’s disapproval. Stubbornness was what pushed her up whenever her tutors knocked her down.

And stubbornness was the driving force behind her talking to what she _thought_ to be Pyrrha Nikos.

It was hard to tell really. Intellectually, she knew she was speaking to Pyrrha Nikos, but sometimes it seemed as though the world…bent around her. Usually there was a teenage girl, but sometimes there was an unsmiling woman with cold, dark calculating eyes, or a man, shirtless and sweaty, covered in blood and grime with a sadistic smile on his face. The air seemed to have a tinge of violence, and occasionally, her delicate nose, used to the smell of perfume and perfectly cooked meals, smelled the faint whiff of copper and sunbaked sand.

Still, despite her discomfort, the desire to excel, to prove herself allowed her to ignore the odd sensation and endeavor to persuade Pyrrha (was it her though? Maybe it was a fear semblance? Was this why she had dominated in Mistral?) that it was to their mutual benefit to team up.

She had just started her spiel when:

Power. Shadow.

Power. Shadow.

POWER. SHADOW.

DANGER.

LEAVE NOW.

Her hand flew to her rapier, drawing it in a frantic motion and pointing it between the eyes of a bemused boy in green.

Their eyes met.

Magic and mysticism. The scent of otherworldly spices. Cold crisp snow steaming as fresh blood was spilled. Honor. Duty. Blood spilled in the dead of night. The tremble of a body that had just ingested poison. Overwhelming pressure.

An loud voice caught her attention, and she eagerly latched on to it desperate to leave the horror before her. As her blue eyes dragged themselves away from magenta ones, she realized she had made a mistake.

The girl in front of her, with her red hair and turquoise eyes, was NOT a girl. There was a man there, with darker hair and ancient armor and a laugh that echoed as lightning and thunder joined him in gaiety. A flash of god, food and drinks and creatures that did not exist. The splinter as boats were rent apart and swallowed by the sea’s unforgiving wrath. The bitter scent of sweat and sex and alcohol upon thick furs.

(There are more of them. Merciful Oum there are more of them.)

“Um? Weiss?” the creature that called itself Pyrrha Nikos said.

Weiss screamed.

 

Nora Valkerie stared as the rich-looking albino girl in the combat skirt screamed and ran away after pointing her weapon at Ren’s face. She contemplated going after her (threatening Ren was a big no-no) but the reaction wasn’t unusual. Granted, it wasn’t often that bad, but it certainly wasn’t unusual.

Ren had feared for a long time that his ability to hide from the Grimm made him similar to the monsters. That the Huntsmen they passed had sensed some darkness about him and feared it. Grimm didn’t attack Grimm; it made sense that he had absorbed their evil to become invisible to their eyes. But even when Nora was alone, people reacted like badly. Some primal fear took over their minds and in some cases, they outright threatened the teens.

A sigh from the redheaded girl in armor caught her attention. Nora recognized her as Pyrrha Nikos, a girl with talent and a lot of titles.

Seeing their looks, Pyrrha’s expression went from dismayed to cautiously curious. “You…aren’t afraid of me?”

Ren shrugged. Nora, as usual, spoke for them both. “Nope! Really, you’re the weird one to us; you’re not afraid us!”

A glimmer of hope filled verdant eyes. “Does” she gestured in the direction Weiss had fled, “that happen to you too?”

“Indeed.” Ren spoke up. Clearly he was starting to like this girl. “It’s quite annoying. And a bit hurtful.”

“Very!” Pyrrha agreed. “I went to doctors, spoke to specialists…nobody could find anything wrong with me, nothing that could explain why my peers and my par- why others had such an adverse reaction to me.”

Both Nora and Ren felt a pang of pity for the girl, both easily deciphering what she didn’t say. If her parent’s reactions to her were anything like what the duo had encountered, the Champion’s home life must have been awful.

“Excuse me? You’re blocking my locker.”

The unwavering tone was such a surprise that all three turned to examine the newcomer.

He was tall, for one, even taller than Pyrrha, who was easily over six feet even without her heels. His hair was a short and blond, resulting in a rather messy display. He had wide, clear blue eyes that were glimmering with a mix of innocence and excitement. He wore stained, worn jeans, beat-up sneakers and a black hoodie with a—

“Bunny!” Nora squealed.

Indeed the image proudly displayed on the boy’s front was a cartoonish bunny by the name of Pumpkin Pete. It was a popular mascot for a popular cereal that sold well among young children.

“Oh. My. Oum. Ren! It’s Pumpkin Pete. I love Pumpkin Pete. Well, not as much as pancakes but that goes without saying; nothing can beat pancakes. Oooh!” Nora exclaimed, pointing dramatically at Pyrrha. “You were on the cover one year!”

The boy gasped. “That’s you? They only do that for star athletes and cartoon characters!”

Pyrrha blushed. “Yeah, it was pretty cool. Sadly, the cereal isn't very good for you.”

Nora scoffed. “Everyone says something isn’t good for you. Ren says that all the time about everything!”

“That because it usually isn’t,” Ren sighed “Just because they come in six-packs doesn’t mean it’s a good idea to eat six full-size candy bars.”

The blond eyed their interaction. “Are you…okay?”

Pyrrha blinked. “Why wouldn’t we be?” Next to her Ren’s eyes narrowed.

The boy didn’t notice, shuffling awkwardly in place. “It’s just…people don’t… I mean…”

“They fear you.” Ren interrupted. “Some people are afraid of you, and neither they nor you know why.”

The boy gaped. “How did you--?”

Nora threw her arm around the boy’s shoulder. It wasn’t easy, considering the height difference. “Join the club! We’re all a group of freaks here!”

The boy looked around at them, confusion and hope warring on his youthful face. Nora grinned at him. Ren nodded. Pyrrha gave him a shy smile.

“Oh. Um…my name’s Jaune Arc.” The newly named Jaune gave them a shaky smile. “You’re all strangers to me, and my mom says strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet, so…want to be friends?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: JNPR is, of course, based off of heroes from our world: Joan of Arc, Thor, Achilles, and Mulan. But these heroes don't exist in the world of Remnant. So it freaks other people with Aura out because unlike Ozpin, who is reincarnated within the world of Remnant, JNPR is reincarnated throughout the various worlds. They are the Remnant's version of heroes that have existed throughout the multiverse. And people with aura can sense that there is all this energy and power extending from these people from somewhere, but it's too much for their minds to comprehend, so they fear it. 
> 
> And poor JNPR have been hurt and confused ever since their auras were awakened, because it's still their souls and nothing seems off to them. Granted they do have certain battle instincts, are stronger and faster because they've been fighters throughout their various lives, but it's normal to them, because throughout the multiverse, they've always played the same roles.


	5. Rooks vs Knights (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yang shouldn't have done that...

 

While it was incredibly easy to dismiss Jaune Arc as a fool, to do so would be at one’s own peril. Jaune was very forgiving, could be very naïve and was quite clumsy. Still, it wasn’t the same as being stupid.

When his rather gracious patience ran out, he hit back hard.

It was apparent the one ( _one_ ) time said Weiss said something disparaging about the drawing received from one of his younger sisters. She believed it was his, which was alright in itself. When Jaune gently corrected her, Weiss, embarrassed, refused to lose face and retained the initial insult. She never saw the way Jaune’s face went blank, nor the way his eyes went cold.

A week later, Weiss’ hair was still an unfortunate shade of piss yellow.

No one asked how Jaune got into team RWBY’s room in the first place. Everyone knew it was him, but no one could _prove_ it. Weiss, who was admittedly feeling a tad guilty about the incident, still kicked up a fuss, but mostly endured it in icy silence. Nonetheless, it was a powerful reminder that Jaune was a leader for a _reason_ , and while he wasn’t book-smart, he was generally cleverer than anyone else on either team.

Jaune wrath was…uncomfortable to behold, which is why Pyrrha couldn’t understand why Yang could ever think this was a good idea.

“I didn’t think he needed it anymore!” Yang protested, staring at the broken remains of what had once been Jaune’s guitar.

Pyrrha groaned. “How did you even…”

“Wild night at Junior’s.” Yang grinned. Pyrrha was not amused.

“You’re going to replace it, yes?” Despite the polite delivery, everyone knew it was not a question.

“Well, yeah sure?” Yang scratched her neck. “How much does one of these cost?”

Ren looked up from his scroll. “Considering the fact that it’s a vintage model, has been very well-maintained, and was handcrafted by an ancestor from Atlesian wood, I’d say about 2,100 lien.”

Yang choked. “What?”

“But,” continued Ren, “considering that we’re talking about Jaune, he’d probably make you pay a discounted price.”

Yang relaxed. “How much of a discount?”

“Probably about 1,850 lien.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“It’s a vintage guitar.”

Yang threw up her hand in frustration. “He serenaded Weiss with it!”

Nora bounced excitedly on her bed. “That makes it even more romantic!”

“I’ll just do him a favor, or something.”

“ _A_ favor?” echoed Ren.

“Do who a favor?” A voice from the door cut in.

Pyrrha paled and rapidly moved away from Yang. While she would usually gladly have Yang’s back on the battlefield, there was a difference between aiding your friend in a fight for their life and aiding them in a fight they instigated.

Ren and Nora clearly had the same idea, as Nora was uncharacteristically silent and Ren was doing that thing where he managed to fade into the background.

Jaune stopped by his bed, staring at the wreckage strewn about it. A beat passed before he turned slowly to look at Yang, waiting for an explanation.

“So,” Yang chuckled nervously. “Really, there’s a funny story…”

“One month,” Jaune interrupted. “You’re a friend, even though you shouldn’t have touched my belongings. So I won’t charge you as much-“

“Nailed it!” Nora whispered, poking her other half.

“-but I expect payment nonetheless.”

“Come on, Vomit Boy!” Yang started to throw a friendly arm over Jaune’s shoulder, but his deadpan stare (combined with the green-eyed glare she could feel burrowing into her head) made her think better of it, and she instead threw her arms behind her head, inadvertently (or maybe purposely) throwing her rather generous chest forward (the glare intensified). “I can’t afford 1,800 lien-“

“It’s probably more around 1,850 to be honest,” Jaune mused.

Yang spared a brief baleful glare towards Ren before continuing. “-a 1,850 lien guitar. So how’s bout a do you a favor?”

Jaune cast a look at his guitar, then back to the blonde boxer. “ _A_ favor?”

“A couple of favors,” Yang amended. “Come on, Vomit Boy. What happened to the power of friendship?”

Ren rolled his eyes. “Maybe don’t insult the person your appealing to?”

“Ah Jauney Boy’s fine with it, aren’t you?”

Jaune gave a baleful stare.

Yang was grasping for a way out of this situation. Usually her charms worked, and it not those then—

“I challenge you to a duel!”

A beat.

Pyrrha blinked. “You’re going to challenge the guy you wronged…so you can get out of paying him?”

“Don’t have a choice, do I?”

“I’ve seen your bills. You spend what you owe Jaune almost every month.”

“You know you could just ask for an extension?” Jaune pointed out. “We do get paid for missions.”

“Or I can just not pay at all…”

“Maybe we could just make you pay.” Nora’s smile could have made an Ursa retreat.

“Buuuuttt we’ll never find out which team is the best one, will we?” Yang was shamelessly baiting at this point. Nora might have matured in their three years at Beacon, but she still had her buttons, and Yang knew just which ones to push.

True to form, Nora scowled fiercely and cracked her knuckles menacingly.

Pyrrha groaned. “We do this every year.”

She had a point; the RWBY-JNPR “rivalry” inevitably reared its head each year. RWBY had dominated their first year, and quickly made a reputation for themselves. Understandably, they’d expected a similar result the next year.

They were solely mistaken.

JNPR, spurred by their narrow defeats and growing quickly tired of Yang (and Weiss and Blake, though neither would ever admit it) lording the victory over them. Jaune had rallied his team, growing into his niche as their leader and tactician. Ren grew stronger, Nora grew mellower and Pyrrha grew to firmly attach herself to her team emotionally, becoming less of a champion and more of teammate.

RWBY had grown as well, but not as drastically; the problem was, even to this day, that they were really quite arrogant. Yang had always been acknowledged as the strongest, Blake’s experiences gave her a sense of pride, as her agility was usually unmatched. Weiss’ sense of perfection gained her accolades. Even Ruby, who was perhaps the humblest of the group, had spent so long being praised and told she was a prodigy, a part of her couldn’t help believe it. It wasn’t really their fault; humility was something gained through experience, and RWBY hadn’t quite undergone that experience quite yet.

So when RWBY accepted the challenge JNPR issued, they weren’t quite prepared for what they would fight. Their coveted team attacks weren’t as effective on a team that knew them all. And none of them were really prepared for Jaune’s Semblance.

Still, while Jaune had confidence in his team, he wasn’t about to just let Yang try to get away with this. He stroked his chin in thought, scratching at the stubble that had begun to grow in.

“Come on, Fearless Leader!” Nora hopped to her feet. “We can do this!”

Seeing that only a quarter of the team was on board with her plan, Yang had a flash of inspiration. “Tell you what. If you win, I’ll pay and I’ll owe you a favor. But when we win, I won’t pay and I get to take you out for a night on the town.”

Jaune’s eyebrows flew up as Pyrrha’s narrowed. “Like a movie or something?” he said incredulously.

Yang winked. “Why not, Fearless Leader?”

“We accept.” Pyrrha appeared to be the image of calm, except for the way the very room seemed to creak. Ren and Nora eyed her. Jaune, of course, was oblivious. “We shall resolve this silly debate, and you will accept your loss with grace.”

In the face of two determined women, Ren released his customary sigh as his sign of agreement.

Jaune continued to contemplate before finally saying, “Alright, then. Ruby and I will hash out terms and finalize this, but I do have an amendment.”

“Okay…”

“If we succeed, then you will owe all of us a favor, for dragging my team into this. However, should we lose, I will owe team RWBY a favor.”

“Deal.”

“Jaune!” Pyrrha admonished. “You’re the wounded party here; you shouldn’t have to do work for them!”

“As it stands, I win regardless,” Jaune argued. “That’s not fair.”

“Technically, Yang would win by not having to pay you,” Ren pointed out.

“She’d be paying for a meal though.”

“Which is fraction of what she owes you.”

“We’ll hash it out later,”Jaune conceded.

“Well, I’ll go tell Ruby of our agreement. Pleasure doing business…Fearless Leader,” Yang purred.

There was faint crunching sound as a metal dresser handle was crushed under an unknown (to Jaune at least) force.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Yang did has happened to me before: someone breaks or misplaces something of mine, and rather than pay for it, they say they'll do me a favor. Ren's response was my own.
> 
> A part of me wondered if I was bashing team RWBY, but then decided their attitudes weren't too far out. In this universe, the Vytal festival didn't happen in Vale. Without the use of the festival as cover to infiltrate and kill the Fall maiden, Cinder hasn't attacked yet. So without the Fall of Beacon to serve as a wake-up call, Team RWBY hasn't quite matured to the extent they have in Volume 4 and 5. They're still kind of arrogant, and in many way oblivious, because their safe haven hasn't been breached.
> 
> Had to do some research on guitar prices for this. I figured since Atlas is basically considered an icy tundra, wood products are a premium item. They have trees, but it's hard to go out, cut them down, and shape them to their leisure with the weather and the Grimm working against you. So a guitar handcrafted out of wood from Atlas would be, if not incredibly rare, quite expensive.
> 
> Will JNPR win?  
> Should JNPR win?  
> What do you think Jaune's semblance should be?  
> Also sill accepting ideas and requests! Read and Review!


	6. Medieval AU (recommended by Darkkseid) Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fall of Arcadia

Every time the horses hooves hit the ground, pain lanced up her side. The glancing blow of a Grimm Knight to her ribs rendered her incapable binding them without time, and they had no chance to delay. Pyrrha spurred the horse ever faster, silently encouraging her liege to hurry his pace.

Jaune kept glancing back, both at his companions and at the wreaths of smoke that lazily rose into the clear night sky. A lance of anguish to her heart overrode even her physical pain. Jaune did not deserve this. His people did not deserve this. Her fists tightened around the reins.

It was because of the _witch_.

 

_The game was growing scarce, even though it was the heart of summer. The scent of evil and death constantly wafting from the city frightened and sickened prey and drove predators mad. Bands of unusually large, feral wolves had begun to grow, and they were indiscriminate about their prey. Many a farmer had been killed, starvation rendering them near incapable of defending themselves from the beasts._

_The crops had begun to die before they had reached the peak of growth. The people were hungry and what little Prince Jaune's group could find was fought and killed over._

_The king was barely eating, alternating between near-comatose stillness and abrupt drunken rage. A serving boy had had his head dashed in for no other reason than being in the king’s line of sight._

_“This needs to end.” Her prince’s voice was nearly inaudible, his mind no doubt thinking of the village they had just left. The pleas and curses of the people, desperate and afraid. And the guilt and rage he no doubt felt, the pain of seeing his people suffer and being unable to help them._

_Pyrrha exchanged a look with Ren. They both had dreaded this conversation, but if the kingdom was to survive…_

_They rode up to him, leaning in closely. “My-Jaune,” Pyrrha began. “The people cannot bear these horrors any longer.”_

_“I know.” He moaned. “But what can I do? My father's word is law.”_

_Pyrrha bit her lip. What she could say next could get her executed on the spot. The Nikos had served the Arcs for generations. What she was thinking…it felt wrong to even drift across her mind. Luckily Ren had a talent for getting to the heart of the problem. His value as a mage gave him a bit more immunity, and he didn’t have a legacy of honor to consider._

_“My master,” he began. “Once told me this: if your crops are infested with vermin, sometimes it is better to burn it down and start anew.”_

_Jaune was no fool. “You speak treason,” he said lowly, staring straight ahead._

_“I speak for the good of the kingdom, your Majesty.”_

_“Don’t call me that.”_

_“They’re calling you that now, didn’t you hear?” Magenta eyes blazed. “They no longer see your father as king, and unless you do something, you will no longer will be prince.”_

_“I care not for simple titles.” Jaune hissed, laying a hand on his sword. “You would have me be a kin-slayer?”_

_Pyrrha broke in. “We would have you be the man we pledged our lives to.”_

_Jaune looked away._

_“A noble man,” Pyrrha continued. “Who is strong and just and fair. The man who sees this evil flourish, sees who permits it…and though it pains me to say, the man who knows what must be done.”_

_The prince’s hand fell away from his blade. “I know,” he replied in a broken whisper. “By the gods…I know.”_

_In that moment, the ground shuddered._

 

“Grimm!”

Immediately, she spurred her horse forward, placing herself in front of her prince—her king. Even now, instinct demanded she protect him, and she would. Especially now, when the royal line was all but extinguished.

She would not let the Arc flame die.

Ren fell back, his hands crackling with mystical energy, while Nora Valkyrie, his forbidden lover and daughter of the Valkyrie Smiths, who’d forged the finest armors in the kingdom, and had served the Arcs for decades, pulled up into the spot Pyrrha had vacated and unclipped her smith’s hammer. Her ancestral Warhammer, strapped across her back, was far too large and cumbersome to easily wield upon a horse, so she settled for the smaller implement instead.

The Grimm patrol, even in their twisted, cumbersome armor, were swift. Running on all four like tormented dogs, they rushed towards the fast-approaching targets, intending to spook the horses and drag their riders down.

But these mounts were a battle-hardened breed, specially trained to not panic, and far smarter than the average beast. Pyrrha’s mount, a russet stallion snorted, eager to fight.

It could barely be called that. Her horse stopped and reared up moments before the two sides clashed, then swiftly came down, crushing metal armor and snapping bones easily beneath his colossal hooves. Pyrrha’s sword flashed and a Grimm knight screamed as its arm was hewn from its body. Its head swiftly followed.

The air shivered and a patch of muddy ground morphed into a pit of amber, taking three Grimm by surprise and leaving them unable to dodge. The amber engulfed them, their heavy armor swiftly dragging them down, before swiftly solidifying, trapping them in the bowels of the earth.

Jaune’s lance skewered two and his sword bisected a third, while Nora’s hammer rendered the last’s head into so much pulp.

The fight was over in mere moments. But the victory felt hollow when Pyrrha remembered that this was skeleton patrol. The rest had been recalled to the heart of the kingdom.

Towards the beast.

“Come,” Jaune panted, “It’s not far to the coast. We must press on.”

The quartet continued forward, the night swiftly coming, the beautiful setting sun belying the horrors they were fleeing.

 

_The shudders came rhythmically, growing stronger the closer they drew to the castle. All around was chaos. Grimm knights raised their jagged weapons in the air, their ugly features contorted in an expression of bloodlust and triumph. Stands were overturned, the innocent were chased and gutted. The anguished screams of women being taken in the streets, or children being run down, or men wailing in despair. It all rose to form a hellish cacophony._

_Though he longed to stop and help, Jaune needed to get to the castle. He had a horrible feeling he knew who was involved, and he was desperate to dee if it could be stopped._

_In the depths of his heart, he knew he was too late._

_The servants poured out of the castle gates in a wave, nearly falling under the party’s horses in their terror. Barely waiting for Pyrrha and Ren, let alone the rest of his guards, Jaune tore into the castle, dodging fleeing servants striking out at rabid Grimm the feeling of horror and scent of death growing stronger and stronger the closer he got to the throne room. Upon reaching it, he Pyrrha and Ren pushed open the heavy oaken doors to see hell._

_Jaune barely heard the rest of his guard arrive, nor did he hear Cinder Fall’s low, amused chuckle. He didn’t even notice he’d fallen to his knees. All he could see was the carnage before him._

_Blonde locks, lovingly brushed and treated with oils were now stained and matted with blood. Delicate dresses and handstitched tunics and breeches were slowly changing colors, soaking up lifeblood. The rest trickled along the floor flowing into a familiar-looking pit._

_His sisters. His beautiful, lovely sisters._

_His father kneeled before the throne, his head lolling as though drunk, seemingly unaware of the massive pit of pitch dug in the middle of the room’s floor, or the twisted hellish features of his newly corrupted guards, nor the sword he held loosely in his hand, still wet with the blood of his daughters._

_“By the gods,” Ren choked. “Blood Necromancy.”_

_“Oh, look, the little mage has read his books,” Cinder cooed. Her loyal thugs stood by her sides as she lounged on the king’s throne. “And look, the golden prince on his knees. Like father, like son.”_

_That was enough to snap Jaune out of his daze. “What have you done?” he cried then screamed. “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, YOU WITCH!?!?”_

_“Why I’m ushering in a new age, boy.” Cinder stood gracefully, red silk whispering along carpeted steps as she descended the dais, cradling the king’s vacant face like a newborn’s. “I’m ensuring Arcadia is protected for millennia. I’m bringing order to a chaotic world.”_

_Jaune drew his sword, his guards following his lead. The rustle of robes told him Ren was freeing his hands to cast his spells. “You will die, bitch.”_

_“How original.” She drawled in response. “You Arcs, so noble, so kind. So naïve. Still you’ve served your purpose. And you will maintain you status as the protectors, not of this kingdom, but of this world. Of this Empire. Watch.”_

_With that, she seized the king by his throat. As Jaune started forwards, his mouth opening to signal an attack, she cast him into the pit._

_He screamed._

_He screamed and screamed as black tinged with scarlet crawled over him, slithering into his ears and mouth and nose. He screams slowly turned to moans as he tried to drag himself from the pit, his skin bulging unnaturally, his mass growing exponentially. His moans turned to growls and roars and screeches as leathery appendages grew from his back, as his neck extended and his skull expanded and his teeth broke his jaw with how quickly they grew._

_Jaune swore. “Kill him! Kill it!”_

_The party rushed forwards, trying to flank the former king, but it was too swift. It’s now scaly jaw opened, and a spew of red tar burst out, spraying two knights. They screamed as the liquid burned and burrowed into their skins, simultaneously torturing and corrupting them._

_The guard captain saw this and made a split decision. “My liege! You must flee! Nikos, go with him!”_

_“No!”Jaune screamed. “Captain-!”_

_“Sir-!” Pyrrha protested._

_“You are the last Arc!” The captain stopped to slide under the swing of a rapidly growing tail. One of his men wasn’t so lucky and was promptly dashed against the far wall. “You must survive. Nikos, protect him with your life! That’s an order!”_

_Reminded of her solemn vow, and faced with overwhelming horror and power, Pyrrha knew what to do. As the corrupted dragon, now fully formed, turned towards them, the guard captain stabbed under one of its forelegs. It released a primal screech of rage and turned its attention away from the trio, allowing Pyrrha and Ren to seize the prince under his arms and drag him away, even as he screamed and fought._

_The last view that Pyrrha saw of the throne room was the cruel amusement upon Cinder’s face as the beast tore the guard captain’s head from his shoulders._

_They managed to reach the stables through sheer luck and desperate fear, and the blacksmith had bid them to mount the swiftest, strongest horses in the stables, as well as begged the prince to take his daughter as they fled._

_Even in the depths of his grief, Pyrrha knew Jaune would not decline, as he knew the nature of the relationship between the blacksmith’s daughter, Nora, and his up and coming mage advisor._

_The Mage’s Order was one of celibacy. Knowledge and control in exchange for love and emotion. It was a cruel cycle, as those who could not control their magic often found themselves vessels for demons, or in some case, simply exploded; either way this meant death, either by their own power or by another mage’s hand. While self-teaching was possible, it was hard and rare, as the Mage’s Order coveted such teaching tomes and jealously guarded them._

_Technically, the romance between the mage and the blacksmith was a breaking of his vows, and were it to be found out, unless the king had pity on him and was willing to defy the Order, Ren’s titles could be stripped and his power locked away._

_Jaune, being his usual sympathetic self, had sworn to see Ren married and the Order defied upon becoming king._

_That likelihood was laughable now._

 

The small fishing crew had enough room for four extra people, miraculously enough, and even though they pressed a bit hard for extra gold, Pyrrha doubted that the crew of the Blood Gulch would betray them. They had a stubbornness to them that she liked.

Jaune sat upon a bundle of nets in one of the stalls they were given to sleep, stroking the double crescent that was the Arc crest over his heart. She approached him, chewing a medicinal leaf and grasping her bandaged side, courtesy of a rather eccentric medic whose voice alternated between mild-mannered and calm and raspy and threatening.

“What is our plan, Jaune?”

The prince, orphaned and bereaved, looked up at his most faithful friend. “I don’t know old friend. I don’t know.”

She sat next to him, and for a moment, their titles were meaningless as they embraced each other and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Doing research for other recommended prompts, but their both prompts whose crossovers I've only experienced either a long time ago or in passing. But I churned this one out in joy of a finished assignments extended deadline.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it! Review!


	7. Metal Gear AU Part 1(recommended by crowwoyzeck)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For crowwoyzeck.
> 
> Ozpin must ask aid from the greatest soldier in all of Remnant

Glynda Goodwitch, despite her loyalty, was often not a fan or supporter of her boss's various schemes and ventures. Case in point…

“I do not understand why you are hoping to recruit the services of these…degenerates, Ozpin.” She pushed her spectacles up her nose, shooting a severe look to the seemingly lost in thought Ozpin. She’d been around him long enough to know that he knew that she was annoyed, and that was the look he adopted in a futile effort to prevent her from cross-examining him.

It never worked.

“I wouldn’t call them degenerates Glynda,” came a slurred drawl from the corner of the bullhead. The infamous Qrow Branwen was sprawled on the floor, nursing his ever-present flask. Glynda wrinkled her nose; a rather common automatic response when almost anyone was confronted with Qrow. It wasn’t even the drunkenness all the time. His clothes were ever stained and wrinkled, and considering how many types of alcohol he’d put in that flask at any available time, it was anyone’s guess if even Qrow knew what he drinking anymore. Combine that with his often lecherous eyes and brusque manners, it was only thanks to his amazing skill that Signal had kept him on for as long as they had.

“Given their reputations, I wouldn’t have thought them to be sensitive,” Glynda sniffed.

“Nah, they aren’t sensitive.” Qrow gave a sloppy grin. “They might see it as a chance to fight you though, just for the hell of it.”

“Sound like a party.” Glynda’s severe look cut over to where fourth-year team CVFY were lounging. Having been silent until now, Coco Adel now leaned forward, stroking her purse. Her teammate, Velvet Scarletina, gave an exasperated sigh, while her partner, Fox Alistair, rolled his sightless eyes. The final member of the team, Yatsuhashi Daichi, gave no indication of response, deep in his meditative trance.

“I would bid you to not engage any members of Outer Heaven, Miss Adel.” Despite his rather mild tone, Ozpin’s tone carried a layer of steel in it. “Not only because we are hoping to establish a peaceful agreement, but because the group contains some of the most powerful former Huntsmen in the world.”

“Is it true, then Headmaster?” Velvet shyly inquired. “Is he—well I mean is it really—? “

Ozpin sighed. “Big Boss is the confirmed head of Outer Heaven, yes.”

An uneasy silence fell over the cabin. Even Qrow tensed at the mere mention of one of the world’s most dangerous men.

Big Boss, once known as Jaune Arc, last of his name, had been praised as a prodigy. His team Jasper (JSPR) had been first years a few years after the record-breaking team STRQ. They had swiftly left the then giants in the dust. Lauded for his near-genius tactical skill, his unique swordsmanship, and his sheer drive, many a Kingdom had tried to latch on to him. When his team had graduated, JSPR was very near the symbol of Vale.

And then it had all gone wrong.

The mission specifics had been horribly vague. Still, with the power of Adam Taurus rising, the seemingly simple mission should have been easy enough, the Council reasoned. Sure an alarming number of Huntsmen had disappeared from the region, but they weren’t part of team JSPR.

Arc had protested, pointing out that they needed a greater force than just four people; better intel, better resources. The mission was too dangerous.

The council disagreed. All the other Kingdoms had suffered horrible terrorist attacks by the White Fang. They were desperate to prevent such a thing from happening in Vale, and if they happened to show up Atlas and Mistral…well, that was an added benefit. Reluctantly, Arc aquised to their order.

That mission killed Jaune Arc.

From the report filed, the White Fang had settled on the edge of the Grimmlands. Instead of a force of about three or four dozen members, there had been about _forty_ dozen. It was a mystery to this day how the intel had been so wrong.

The Fang had been preparing for just short of full-scale warfare.  Near-Huntsman level armor and weapons, a small country’s worth of Dust. They were not a bunch of people squatting in the dirt; they were an army, one that managed to capture team JSPR, but only after heavy losses.

JSPR hadn’t been the only ones. Many of the Huntsmen who’d been sent before had been captured and tortured. Forced to mine near empty and unstable dust mines around the camp as their captors jeered and laughed.

JSPR had suffered for nearly two months before Arc had hatched a plan. It wasn’t only Huntsman being tormented. Many Faunus’ were imprisoned as political prisoners, an unfortunate number who had spoken out against the radicalness of their brethren. Jaune had begun to rally them, encouraging chaos and rebellion to breed in the hearts of both Huntsman and Faunus alike. It earned him increased beatings, torture beyond most mortal limits, decreased rations of no food and little water.

But he withstood it all. And when a guard slipped up three months later, and Arc snapped his neck and took his keys, he took up a sword and shield and led a full-scale revolt.

Many died on both sides, including the rest of Arc’s team. Still he and his compatriots managed to overcome the majority of guards, steal weapons and vehicles and supplies, and ignite the camp in a fireball so large its explosion was heard on the outskirts of Vale, nearly a hundred miles away.

The White Fang encampment all but destroyed, Jaune Arc lead nearly a hundred refugees across barren lands toward Vale, where he guarded them night and day, with barely a few hours of sleep each night. When the exhausted, wounded, nearly dead group finally arrived at a village on the outskirts of vale, Arc declared himself, then kneeled over in a dead faint.

When the confusion was all sorted out, and Arc and the bodies of his teammates had finally returned to Vale proper, it was discovered that they had been declared KIA nearly half a year. When he confronted the Council about everything: their poor intel, the lack of reinforcements, the Council hastily tried to wipe their hands clean of the incident. They then had the audacity to ty to reign Arc in, to order him on yet more missions; insubordinate or not, he was still one of their best agents.

What they didn’t realize was that Jaune Arc had died in that White Fang camp. What emerged was the juggernaut knight that prisoners had named first jokingly, then in awe:

The Big Boss.

And he was furious.

Years later, he had continued doing missions, but what the Council didn’t know about was his increasingly growing base of power. He had spies across the kingdoms, the broken and the weary and the hopeful and the hopeless. He wooed them with his dream, of a land where soldiers were not toys, where no man was left behind. Where the injured could receive treatment and fight and die not for people in suits who’d never seen combat, but where they were needed. They pledged themselves to him, to the knight known as Big Boss.

And it was years later, as he stood under a deluge of rain on the steps of Menagerie’s chieftain palace, the cheers of his people echoing around him as he lifted Adam Taurus’s head above the crowd, that his dream became reality.

When the White Fang had been hunted to oblivion, the kingdoms praised him once more.

“What do you want, hero?” they said.

“Give me Menagerie,” he declared.

They were startled of course, but as the land had no real value to the Kingdoms, they shrugged and signed it over to him.

“What’s the harm?” they said. “Maybe he’ll keep the disgruntled civilians under control.”

And he did, but not in the way they expected.

Within three years of receiving the island, the leagues of huntsmen who had allied themselves to him moved in. They began recruiting from the local populace, turning them into an army rivaling almost any of the Kingdoms. Many a Faunus who didn’t have the money to join an academy were allowed to pledge themselves to the Big Boss, given an education, weapons and armor and training to stand on par with the average Huntsman. The barren wastelands of the island became training grounds; the wastes forcefully cultivated.

Twenty-three years after he’d graduated beacon, Big Boss had the largest mercenary paramilitary group in all of Remnant. The island was eventually renamed to reflect the idea of hope and second chances: Outer Heaven.

And now Ozpin would see his old student, and beg for aid against a threat greater than any kingdom: a threat against humanity itself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a bit of research, as I haven't played any Metal Gear since Snake Eater, which was over a decade ago. Which meant I had do research regarding various characters, work out a good backstory for Jaune, and develop it from there.
> 
> Still, it was quite a bit of fun. Any other recommendations, I'd be glad to hear them! 
> 
> Review please! It gives me life, and feedback is always amazing!


	8. Gesalt AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JNPR died together. Now they are reborn together. whether they want to be or not.

James Ironwood was not a man who many would consider to be described as humble. Indeed, ironwood was not afraid to admit that he could be blinded by his own pride and accomplishments, and could make rash decisions that he would stubbornly stick by.

Still, he was not so arrogant as to believe that he had seen everything the world had to offer. In fact, much of his pride came from the fact that Atlas military was constantly improving, inventing and pushing the boundaries of science. They were widely considered to be the most technologically advanced nation in Remnant for a reason, and James would never get tired of seeing his students go on to create things that would one day save lives.

But this…

He had been uneasy before, with Dr. Polendina and his aura experiments. Aura was something even he was wary of tampering with. It was a person’s _soul_ , after all.

Still, despite his misgivings, he wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t interested.

“Are they awake?” he asked the head scientist of this project, a Doctor Tawny.

Despite her rather diminutive stature, Ironwood couldn’t help but be impressed by her ability to discern her scrolls readings, talk and move quickly enough that he had almost struggle to keep up, all at the same time.

“They reading indicate that they are. Arc is certainly gaining greater coherence, and much quickly than expected.” She frowned slightly. “His team is starting to stir as well, according to their brainwaves. It may be linked to his semblance.”

“How so?” Ironwood inquired.

“You are aware of his semblance’s abilities, yes?”

“Indeed. Huge reserves, aura manipulation to a degree we’ve never seen before. He could aura itself from his enemies, and funnel it to his team.”

“And he had an astounding regeneration rate, faster than those with far less aura. Because of this, we think he’d been keeping his team alive after their…incident.”

“He did have a high score in protective instincts,” Ironwood mused. “You’re saying he’d maintained this through the coma?”*

“Yes. Dr. Michael fainted on the first day we managed to stabilize him. We found out later he was suffering from acute aura exhaustion.  His team’s vitals all stabilized on the same day. We had to make sure that the guards had more frequent rotations, lest they become too tired to do something, should the something happen.”

Ironwood started to say something else, but the blare of a klaxon cut him off.

“No,” Dr. Tawny breathed. Abruptly she began to run.

“What is going?” Ironwood demanded, easily keeping pace with her.

“Escape attempt!”

 

**_Where am I?_ **

**Who am I?**

**_ Can’t feel my— _ **

Arms

**_Legs_ **

Team

**_ Team? _ **

**_ Team… _ **

**_ I am on a team. _ **

**_ A team of Huntsmen. _ **

**From Beacon**

_Beacon?_

Beacon…

**_Team name._ **

_I am on a team._

**_Team JNPR._ **

**_ Yes. JNPR. _ **

**_ I am a member of— _ **

_Leader of—_

**_ Team JNPR. _ **

**_ I am— _ **

_Jaune Arc_

**_Nora Valkyrie_ **

**Pyrrha Nikos**

Lie Ren

_Protect my team. I am the leader._

**_Lead us._ **

**Direct us.**

Instruct us.

**_What_ ** _/_ **wher _e/_** are _/ **do** / **we do?**_

_We need answers. We are not normal._

Something has been done to us.

**We are being scrutinized.**

**_We want to get out._ **

**_ Yes. _ **

**_ Yes. _ **

_We leave, we get_ **_OUT._**

_Then we flee._

 

Ironwood and Tawny were nearly at the lab when the large, reinforced, three-inch steel door exploded out into the hallway, sending shards of steel and bodies flying.

The doctor and the general both threw themselves to either side of the hallways, narrowly missing the door flying over and past them. Ironwood lifted his face in time to see a grey blur rush past him.

Dr. Tawny saw it as well. “Team JNPR, wait!”

The blur stopped abruptly, and Ironwood saw what had become of the young team.

Trillions upon trillions of nanobots formed a shape that was vaguely humanoid, but grey and fuzzy looking. It seemed as if a person was being covered in a cloud of insects.

Dr. Tawny seemed to gain courage from the being—the _team’s_ sudden stop. “Team JNPR,” she said, slowly raising to her feet. “You’ve been in a terrible accident. I know you’re scared and confused right now—“

The fuzzy form suddenly began to solidify, gain color. Within a moment, a tall blond was standing in the middle of the corridor. Jaune Arc, if Ironwood remembered correctly. The young man looked much like he had before the accident, with the exception of the white glowing holes where his blue eyes should have been.

“ ** _What have you done to us?_** ”  Arc snarled, except it wasn’t just him. The hallway echoed with four voices, all coming from one mouth. Ironwood almost shuddered. He was mildly impressed Dr. Tawny did not do so, at least not visibly.

“We saved your souls, with the aid of some experimental Atlas technology. I know it was far but ideal, but this is all we had at the time.”

“ _Playing with_ **powe** r,” Arc snarled. Except it wasn’t Arc anymore. The boy’s form blurred, red locks replaced blond. Nikos face replaced his, but the snarl remained the same. “ ** _Like Penny_** ,” she, they hissed. “ ** _Playing Oum with power you don’t understand_**.”

“I am sorry,” Dr. Tawny said regretfully. “But you have a new lease on life now. You can continue to serve—“

Nikos form blurred again, becoming that grey humanoid in apparent agitation. “ ** _YOU CALL THIS LIVING!?!?! YOU’VE RUINED US! MADE US INTO AN ABOMINATION!_** ”

Ironwood finally found his voice. “Team JNPR!” he barked. “Are you not Huntsmen? Did you not swear to serve the people, in any shape or form?”

The grey mass writhed for a long time. Behind it, reinforcements drawn by the alarm rushed off the arriving lift, but Ironwood swiftly gestured them to stand down.

After a moment, the mass consolidated to form a young man with a strip of pink in his pitch black hair. His blank face was devoid of emotions, and the lack of expression combined with his glowing white eyes finally caused Ironwood to shudder.

“ ** _We did swear. We remember that._** ” The creature that was team JNPR stared at Ironwood. “ ** _We’re listening._** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No idea why I made this but it popped in my head, and I needed a break from the various final papers I'm writing for all my classes.


	9. Payday AU (recommended by Darkkseid)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not always about money.

“Now you sit tight. You’ll be fine when the next shift comes along.”

The terrified guard could only stare in wide eye terror at the Grimm-mask wearing, giggling psychopath with the synthetic voice, who’d smashed his kneecap in with a mallet and gagged and bound him with his own tie, belt and shoelaces.

“Thor! Come on, we’re on a schedule.”

The now-named Thor blew the prone guard a kiss before literally skipping away.

“Here, Fearless Leader!” she sang, skipping up to the tall dark-haired man currently drilling into a dust shipping container.

“Code names, Thor.” The man’s voice was equally synthetic, yet managed to convey his growing annoyance.

“Ugh, fine. _Knight_.”

There was a clanging sound as the thick titanium lock finally gave way to the dust drill’s onslaught. Knight made a sound of triumph. “Help me with this.”

The two forcefully shoved the hydraulic door up, straining against the mechanical resistance.

“Set the payload,” Knight grunted. Thor slipped into the crate immediately.

“Knight.”

Knight tensed, before relaxing at the similarly mechanical tones, much like his own. “Spartan. Lotus. Job complete?”

The slight man nodded, while his taller companion, an athletic woman, smiled behind her mask, flashing a smartphone. “But of course.”

Thor slipped back out of the dust container. “Charges set, boss.”

Knight let the crate door fall. “Let’s go then.”

The quartet slipped out of the shipyard as quickly and as silently as they’d arrived.

Twenty minutes later, the ground shook as the explosive charges set in several dust crates detonated, igniting their contents in a dazzling array of multicolor pyrotechnics.

 

* * *

 

One week later, the auditorium at the prestigious Beacon academy, Vale’s most high-tier high school, was loud with celebration as its former principal, a Mr. Ozpin, was confirmed to have won the popular vote for the position of the city’s mayor. This was to the surprise of many experts, considering his opponent was Jacques Schnee, CEO of the Schnee Dust Corporation, and producer of the very voting machines used in the election.

Many experts had expected at least a majority of the sympathy vote to go to Schnee, considering one of the company’s port-side shipping sites had been victim to what had been determined to be the work of terrorists. Luckily, the voting machines, which had just come in that night, were not harmed.

“Congratulations, professor.”

Ozpin turned to examine the latest batch of well-wishers.

The one in front, Jaune Arc, smiled at him, his right arm wrapped around the waist of his wife and childhood sweetheart, Pyrrha Arc nee Nikos. Slightly behind them were their close friends, Lie Ren and _his_ childhood sweetheart Lie Nora nee Valkyrie.

All of them were former students of Ozpin’s. they all worked at one the most exclusive clubs in the city; Pyrrha and Nora were private trainers, while their husbands were a exclusively gourmet chef and baker and a highly sought out nutritionist, respectively.

All of them were solely responsible for Ozpin’s current win.

“It’s good to see a good man will be changing this city for the better in the future,” Ren smiled.

All of them knew that while Ozpin didn’t have same callous ruthlessness of Jacques Schnee, he was by no means a saint.

“I certainly will try,” Ozpin responded, ever the picture of a humble man. “I trust you received my gifts for your contributions to the campaign?”

“Of course,” Pyrrha responded, a demure smile upon her beautiful face. “They were quite lovely. We will certainly put them to good use.”

The “gifts” in question were codes, blueprints, and backdoor codes into several of Ozpin’s backer’s bank accounts, mansions, and vaults. Information was often so much more powerful than simple cash.

Like the “terrorist attack” for example. Just because nothing was stolen didn’t mean nothing happened. There was a reason the voting machines were left intact.

Destroying them would have rendered the virus installed in their systems utterly useless.

“It’s good to see you again prof!” Nora interjected, her smile filling her whole face.

“Indeed.” Ozpin inclined his head, giving the group a slow, knowing smile. “I do hope we can work together again.” He snagged several glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, passing it out among the quartet before raising his own. ”For the good of Vale, of course.”

Jaune smirked, as their glasses clinked together. “For the good of Vale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo...
> 
> It's been a while.
> 
> You ever make a mistake when cleaning up you computer? I did. It came in the form of all of my oneshots, including the ones I was working on, being destroyed.
> 
> So after a long, long sulk period...I'm back.
> 
> This prompt was suggested by Darkkseid. I had to watch some playthroughs to get a sense of what mission I could possibly use as a JNPR heist. I eventually settled on the voting machine tamper mission. It allowed my to cast some light on some of Ozpin's shadiness, and gave me an opportunity to create a career set that would allow people like JNPR to operate without suspicion, I settle on them all working at a very exclusive exercise and nutrition club, thus giving them an in for having unique schedules and the opportunity to hear gossip fro the rich and formulate plans around it.
> 
> Originally, I was going to have them all work Beacon, with kids and super close friend in Team RWBY, but that would mean they all have set schedules, and greater scrutiny cast upon them. The club simultaneously gives them appropriate alibis and greater anonymity.


	10. Metal Gear AU (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Beacon group arrives at Outer Heaven.

Menagerie was once hot and cramped, a place swarming with merchants and civilians, people dodging the children that ran eagerly between stalls and proceeding to check their pockets every time someone came too close (which was always).

Now…

It was still hot, of course. But the crampness came not from the crowds, so much as the legions of soldiers patrolling the streets. Most were human, with tan and green armor. All had a standard pistol, and many had only standard rifles though others had more unusual weaponry, hinting at their former careers.

“There really are many Huntsmen here,” Velvet commented in a hushed whisper as they disembarked their Bullhead.

Glynda sniffed. “ _Former_ Huntsmen, yes.”

A short man with a pair of fire-dust infused machetes strapped on his back marched up to them. “You’re the Beacon contingent?”

“We are,” Ozpin confirmed.

The man nodded and directed them to a large, heavily armored truck with a frightening looking turret on top. The group climbed in gingerly (poor Velvet nearly had to put in by Yatsuhashi) and with a bone-shaking rumble, the truck started off along the dusty roads, winding along towards the chieftain’s hut.

Coco frowned as she watched the streets pass by. “Shouldn’t there be more faunus around? This is Menagerie.”

The man who’d met them at the dock spoke up. “Most of them are newer recruits, so they mostly stick closer to the wastelands, where the training grounds are.” He chuckled. “We’ll make true soldiers out of them yet.”

Ozpin frowned but said nothing. The car ride continued in silence, the military setting lending a sense of unease to journey.

 

* * *

 

“Sir. The Beacon contingent has arrived.”

Jaune Arc, known world-wide as the dangerous Big Boss, sighed, releasing a cloud of cigar smoke. “Send them to the conference room. I’ll be there shortly.”

Lie Ren, his chief intelligence officer and one of his closest, most loyal friends, nodded gesturing to the guards to escort the Huntsmen in before retreating through a hidden door, no doubt to ensure his spies and assassins were situated around the conference room.

Jaune rose from his desk, wincing as he loudly cracked his back. Immediately, Pyrrha was at his side.

“You’re getting old, Boss,” she chuckled.

He smirked at her. “Not the only one. Think I see another wrinkle right…here.” He poked at her face, laughing as she swatted it away.

Pyrrha Nikos, Codename: Ocelot, was one of Mistral’s greatest accomplishments. By that same coin, she was, arguably, also one of its greatest failures.

Known throughout her combat schooling career as “The Invincible Girl”, Pyrrha was conscripted into Mistral’s Spartan program as soon as she graduated.

(Conscripted was a polite term. It was far better than saying she was all but sold by her heavily political and nationalistic parents into military service.)

The Spartan program was to Mistral what the Specialists were to Atlas: essentially, some military crossbreed between a Huntsmen, Special Forces and Black Ops. The reason for this was quite simple, yet also horrifyingly complex: the Special Forces and Black Ops were generally controlled by the army and the intelligence community, respectively. This lead to all sorts of problems, especially when the Black Ops community set their eyes on someone in Special Forces, leading to tension.

Then there were the Huntsmen, who were a whole other can of worms. Even though each kingdom had their own academy, Huntsmen were technically citizens of every Kingdom, and couldn’t be forced to singularly serve a single kingdom, as decreed in the aftermath of the Great War. Though their primary function were to destroy Grimm, many Huntsmen fancied themselves as keepers of the peace, meaning they often forced themselves into a Kingdom’s business.

Finally, there was the fact that each division was horribly over-specialized. Special Forces were high-tier forces that operated as a pickaxe rather than a hammer: they were capable of operating in both public and private sectors. This put them at odds with Black Ops teams, who acted as scalpels and were extremely “if-I-told-you-I’d-have-to-kill-you” private. They couldn’t relate to the public, because as far as the public were concerned they didn’t exist. They were basically spies. And finally, you had Huntsmen, whose main purpose was to kill Grimm, but whose status made them difficult to direct and whose arrogance made them a nightmare to have to coordinate with.

Thus the Specialists and the Spartans (and the Surveyors, based in Vale) were born.

Unlike the other kingdoms, who recruited out of soldiers from various fields, Mistral sought to make their Spartans curtail to the demands imposed upon them. Thus, conscription.

Pyrrha was one of the best Spartans to ever grace Mistralian land. She followed orders to a letter, was unbelievably efficient, and could utterly ruthless when it was demanded of her.

(This made it very, very easy to ignore the fact that Pyrrha Nikos, for all of success, was desperately unhappy. It made it easier to pretend she wasn’t, in her own way, crying out for help with every “Yes, sir!” that passed her lips.

It made it easy to ignore the bottles of increasingly harder liquor turning up in her room.)

Unlike other kingdoms, Mistral could see the threat that was Jaune Arc the moment he lifted Adam Taurus’ head above a cheering crowd. He was a man of no kingdom and was derisive of all of them. He’d outlived his usefulness to Remnant. Pyrrha was sent in to make sure he…retired.

It was Mistral’s greatest mistake.

The battle between the two mighty soldiers lasted for hours, from the setting sun to the rising dawn. The battle took Jaune’s eye.

He took off her chains.

Wounded in her heel, world-weary with her life and the knowledge of her failure, Pyrrha could only watch as The Big Boss limped over to her rock in the Menagerie wastes, and sat down hevily next to her, the spare white rag wrapped over his eye socket nearly black with blood.

She could only listen as she spoke of the world he imagined, where soldiers weren’t exploited by men and women in shadowy rooms. Where the true threat to people could be confronted with no such thing as politics between each soldier upon the battle field.

And then he told of the rumors, the terrifying pattern of the Grimm, the evidence that pointed to a puppet master hidden in the Grimmlands. Of a creature that could arguably called a woman whose name was spoken only in dying breaths.

By the time the sun had risen and the rescue crews had arrived, Pyrrha Nikos, the “Ocelot of Mistral” had pledged herself to the service of Remnant’s Greatest Soldier.

 

* * *

 

Half a decade later, she was still by his side, her spear ready to destroy all that threatened her new home. Granted, her transition hadn’t been easy. Ren and Nora were understandably wary, given that Pyrrha had attempted to kill their leader and friend. Nora, in her usual brash and thunderous way, demanded a trial by combat, as she had years before, when she and Ren had first met Jaune.

The two had been together (not together-together) for almost two decades when Jaune attempted to recruit them. Ren wasn’t necessarily impressive in combat, but what he was infamous for, though many didn’t know it, was intelligence. Having gained the moniker of the Lotus in the underworld, Ren, through patience, thievery, and manipulation, carved out his own little empire in the information business, buying the loyalty of several small-name employees in the same business and creating a web that touched nearly every spot of civilization in Remnant.

His main (only) personal bodyguard and similarly, the only person who actually knew who he was, was Nora. Many, in the early days, had attempted to kill them, thinking the small red-head with the admittedly unsettling Warhammer was a pushover.

All the lucky ones were crippled for life, the bones in their legs rendered into so much splinters. The unlucky ones got to feed the Grimm residing in the marshlands of Mistral.

Jaune had managed to defeat Nora (barely) and convinced the two that their services would do well in aiding the survival of the world. Despite his cold demeanor, Lie Ren had a weakness and it’s name was Nora Valkyrie. Even though she knew firsthand how cruel the world could be, Nora never failed to be optimistic, never faltered in belief that on could do some good. This idealism was what in the end pushed Ren to join Outer Heaven.

He hadn’t regretted it since.

After Nora narrowly lost to Pyrrha, she begrudgely agreed to her presence, though time (and her general inability to hold a grudge) softened her attitude; now the two were nearly inseparable.

 

* * *

 

“I’m not sure I like this,” Pyrrha murmured as the duo strode along the carpeted halls towards the conference room. “You know what Ren’s said about Ozpin, what we’ve read…”

“For all of his faults, the man does appear to genuinely be trying to do some good,” Jaune mused, nodding to a few soldie0sr who stopped and saluted the two as they passed. “Protect the innocent, no matter what. We’re not so different in that regard.”

Pyrrha frowned. “But you don’t make a habit of redirecting blame. The man will worm his way into our business, learning our weaknesses. Then the moment he decides we’re not useful, or we don’t follow his idea of a “righteous path”, we’ll find Atlas bearing down on our shores.”

“Well, then,” The Big Boss said as they drew up to the conference room’s oaken doors. “Let’s not give him a weakness then, hmmm?”

The Ocelot of Mistral drew herself up. “Yes, sir.”

The persona of Remnant’s Greatest Soldier locked firmly in place, The Big Boss opened the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually rewrote this part, because I started to add the Beacon conversation in here, but ultimately decided that I had poured enough of an expositional onslaught in this chapter as is.
> 
> I try to be fair to Ozpin, but I just can't. I've heard some people defending his actions but out of about a hundred and sixty students (I forgot who mentioned it, but someone wrote that their were twenty pedestals during orientation. Meaning forty people (ten teams) passed and became Beacon's freshman class. If this pattern holds, that means their would have to be about 160 students in the school (probably less, given people have probably transferred, dropped out, been grievously injured, or died)) you're trying to tell me that Pyrrha was the ONLY one with the qualities befitting a Maiden?
> 
> I've heard some people argue that it had to Pyrrha and not someone like Glynda, because the recipient had to be a literal maiden. I call bull. One, that completely ruins the whole "last person she thinks about method" because there is no way all the Maidens in the past knew nothing but virgins. Two, it opens up a whole other can of worms because...how on earth would Ozpin, this then forty or fifty something year old man, know that this 17 year old girl is a virgin? He would to have been scooping this girl out the moment she entered combat school. He would have had to have someone following her constantly. He would have had to put cameras in JNPR's ROOM.
> 
> The only thing that makes sense is that Ozpin wanted someone who was both powerful and easy to control. Someone like Yang, Coco and Glynda is too headstrong and would call him out on his bull. Velvet, though she has her own streak as we've seen in Chibi, is still a bit too meek. Blake has too sketchy a past and is too twitchy. Ruby would be too young and she has her own special power already. Weiss is too straitlaced, too high-profile, and doesn't have the sheer physical prowess and aura reserves. Nora is too much of a wildcard. So Pyrrha was emotionally manipulated and this lead to her death.
> 
> Also am I the only one who's pissed that they've been Mistral a whole season, and there hasn't been any mention of Pyrrha's family, the repercussions of her "killing" Penny, or anything?


	11. Just A Few Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyrrha has some questions for Ozpin.

“Sir?” Glynda Goodwitch, Deputy Headmistress of Beacon academy, called to her boss. “Miss Nikos wishes to speak to you.”

The normally distracted look on the Headmaster’s face disappeared, and he stared at his second with laser-like intensity. “Send her in.”

Glynda nodded solemnly. She knew what was at stake, why Ozpin was so attentive. It had only been two days since they’d shown Pyrrha the truth of their world. There was a pretty good chance that Miss Nikos would now be making a sacrifice for the good of Remnant itself.

Pyrrha walked slowly into the large office, her brow furrowed, not even paying attention to the enormous gears slowly churning away for some purpose unknown.

“Miss Nikos,” Ozpin intoned, doing his best to not show his own anxiety. It wouldn’t do to have her panic more than she already was.

“Headmaster,” Pyrrha inclined her head. “Thank you for seeing me.” No one could ever say Pyrrha Nikos wasn’t polite.

“I’m always happy to help my students, Miss Nikos.” Ozpin picked up his mug, slowly swirling the liquid within. “Especially a student from whom I am asking so much from.”

“About that, sir.” Pyrrha leaned forward. “May I ask some questions?”

Ozpin smiled. “Of course.”

Pyrrha paused, gathering her thoughts before plunging forward. “Why me, again?”

Ozpin resisted raising his eyebrow. Miss Nikos was polite indeed. Looking back on the conversation, Ozpin could not recall ever telling her _why_ she was chosen, just that she had been. And Nikos knew that.

He took a sip of coffee to gather his thoughts before responding. “Remnant needs a guardian. Someone who is ready to lead it through the coming war. Someone who is strong. Intelligent. Caring. And most importantly, ready.”

There was a pause as Pyrrha digested his words. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Ozpin nodded, taking another drink.

“Are all the women in Beacon psychopaths?”

Ozpin promptly choked.

“Or is it sociopath?” she continued. “I always mix the two up.”

Ozpin managed to get his coughing under control. “Where in Remnant did you get such an idea?”

Pyrrha blushed fiercely, but straightened and stared straight at the Headmaster. “You just said that ideal candidate must be strong, intelligent, caring and ready. And given that you’ve given me no other requirement besides the fact that they must be a woman, I must assume that every other woman in Beacon is somehow lacking the basic requirement of being a _decent person_.”

Ozpin was flabbergasted. “I can assure you, Miss Nikos that I have taught many a student, have overseen their growth as humanity’s protectors. I can wholeheartedly say that they are all decent people.”

“So why aren’t they being chosen?” Pyrrha fired back.

“Not everyone can lead or inspire, regardless of skill.”

Pyrrha frowned. “Do you regret choosing Jaune Arc to be my leader?”

Ozpin once again found himself thrown. “What? No, of course not. Mr. Arc holds something special. And as you’ve no doubt seen, he is rather tactically gifted.”

“Precisely.” Pyrrha leaned forwards. “Sir, I will always be grateful that you made Jaune leader. As you said, some people hold something special. If I am not in combat, I could not stand crowds staring at me. And I not one who can easily fight in a team unit without guidance, not could I instruct other’s in doing so.”

She leaned back. “That being said, how exactly would you expect me to potentially lead armies if you did not think I would able to lead a four-man team?”

“You would have guidance, training—“

“My father is a military man, Headmaster. Leadership is not something that can be simply taught. It is a natural skill, honed like any other. Not to speak badly about a teammate, but would you place Nora in charge of a unit, unless there was little choice?”

Ozpin thought about the infamous Miss Valkyrie and the manic gleam in her eye that many teachers had begun to fear. He gave an involuntary shudder.

Pyrrha chuckled. “Precisely, sir. Nora is not one to lead and she knows this. Trust me when I say that I would not be a good leader. A second yes, but a leader? No.”

“Our group would gladly guide you, regardless.” Ozpin was beginning to feel the faintest sensation of panic in the back of his mind.

Pyrrha gave an uncharacteristic scoff. Clearly, she’d begun picking up her teammates mannerisms. “I am the first to admit that I can be gullible. But even I can tell you have reasons for your choice that you are not telling me. I’m being asked, by a bunch of secretive people, to potential change my very soul. And then I am to trust those same secretive people to ensure that they will adequately lead me in saving the lives of others, of not being terrifyingly pragmatic or furthering their own, personal goals. Part of the reason I trust the leader I have now is because he wears his heart on sleeve. He lays himself bare, and I have yet to find him wanting.”

Ozpin briefly toyed with the idea of revealing the boy’s false transcripts to her, but shoved that thought away, feeling a brief moment of shame. Was he really entertaining the idea of throwing a promising hunter under the bus, for the sole chance of destroying his relationship with his partner?

“Which brings me to another question: if I accepted your offer, what would happen to my team? Would I still be allowed to be with them?”

Ozpin cleared his throat. “Given the danger presented by our enemies, and the fact they managed to track down and overpower Amber, it would be prudent to have you go into hiding.”

“And my team?” Emerald eyes bored into his. “What happens to my team?”

“You are still in your first year. While your team’s synergy would be off, there is still ample time to find a suitable replacement for your absence.”

“Pardon my Valean, sir, but that is bullshit.”

“Miss Nikos!” Glynda, who’d been silently standing in the background until now, could no longer keep silent.

Pyrrha ignored her. “Headmaster, you know who my teammates are. You know who my teammates know. What are you going to tell them, that I dropped out? They would not believe that. Would you fake my death? You’d have to present a body, and I will NOT lay in casket and let my friends cry over me in some sick ruse.”

Ozpin couldn’t deny the panic bubbling up in his mind now. “What about a family emergency?”

“For how long?” Pyrrha snapped. “Even if they believe that, they won’t believe it for more than a week, and that’s only if I am contacting them in return. And if I don’t, they will find a way to contact me, and if not me, my family. I have an endorsement deal, Professor. It’s not that hard to get my contact information.”

She was outright glaring at him now. “And what exactly were you going to tell my family? I already told you what I think about faking my death. My parents will demand to see me if I don’t contact them, and if you try to stonewall them, they will use every scrap of political and military influence to come down on your head.”

Glynda made an indignant sound behind her. Silence reigned in the office for several moments.

Ozpin was reminded once more of how long he’d lived, and felt overwhelmingly weary. “Are you saying no to the mantle, then?”

“…No. You are right that Remnant needs a symbol, of hope or justice of light. We need to eradicate the darkness, not just beat it back.

However…

No one ever said a symbol had to just be one person. I will NOT bear the torch alone, not when YOU have given me the people that I know will help me lift it. I will NOT be little more than a golden puppet to be brought out once in a while like a prize poodle. I will NOT jump blindly into the fray when I don’t have all the facts. I will NOT make a decision that will affect my team, my family, without giving them the courtesy, nay, the _right_ , to have a say in it. And if you cannot understand that, Professor, if you cannot accept that…you will need to find a different Maiden.”

At this point, Pyrrha had risen to her feet, seemingly towering over the oft larger-than-life Headmaster of Beacon Academy.

Ozpin took a drink. Sighed. Took off his glasses. Rubbed his eyes. Put them back on and stared with tired, old eyes at the Mistralian Champion.

“You make several valid points, Miss Nikos.” He stood up and turned to look out the window over the academy courtyard. “…Very well. My time limit still stands. However…I release you of your oath. Speak to your team. Tell them what has been offered to you.” He turned back to her. “And should you agree to the mantle…your team will be allowed to be alongside you. All of you will face this threat together.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this little one-shot came from some conversions based around my last authors note regarding Ozpin and the process of the Maiden's successor. The thing is, and will reiterate, I don't think Ozpin is evil. Cinder is evil. I think that Ozpin suffers from the unfortunate result that often comes from having a form of immortality. When you no longer truly fear death, everyone around you no longer matters as much. The mortals you're surrounded with aren't people so much as chess pieces that become worn out and have to be replaced. 
> 
> (Also, does Salem know about Ozpin's little immortality curse? Because she questions Cinder, pushes her for her answer on whether or not Ozpin is dead. But if she knows about it, then wouldn't she know that he doesn't really die? I mean yeah, he's now in a kid's body, but that all that kid needs to do is hide for a decade. Wouldn't it have been better to take him alive and imprison him in the Grimmlands, unconscious? That way he doesn't escape via death and pass on his knowledge to someone else? Just wondering.)
> 
> Look at Gandalf for example. He is trying to vanquish darkness in Middle-earth. It's what he was created to do. But remember the Hobbit? Bilbo keeps telling him No, and what does Gandalf do? He essentially has a dozen dwarves ransack Bilbo's house. And then when Bilbo does decide to go with, not once does Gandalf point out to the dwarves that are talking shit about him that "Hey, to be fair. I really hadn't told him what this quest was about. He's a capable burglar, but you guys should cut him slack, considering you kind of stole all his food and he didn't decide to call the Rangers or the Bounders on you to kick you out, or worse."
> 
> Another thing that really bugged me is that, while we really get to see the affect being in a team has on the members of Team RWBY, we don't really get to see that for Team JNPR. Pyrrha is still really, really reserved. And while I pretty sure Ren and Nora told Jaune and Pyrrha about being orphans, it seemed to me that Jaune had no idea of the significance of Kuroyuri to the two. Also, you're telling me Pyrrha has not picked up on the sass her teammates have, or even Team RWBy has, like Weiss does? No way.
> 
> Man, these ANs are long...


	12. Rooks vs Knights Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle of the teams begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being far longer than I thought it would be. Expect a part 3 eventually.

Ruby eagerly agreed to a team battle, and the week leading up to it was annoying to say the least. Ruby had apparently decided psychological warfare would secure their victory, and so employed all sorts of tactics in the form of pranks. Pyrrha’s locker was mysteriously iced shut. Jaune’s pens would disappear from his desk in a blur of rose petals. Ren found his shampoo reversed his hair’s famous color scheme.

The silent assault was eventually halted after someone (Yang) ate all of Nora’s pancakes. There was the unspoken agreement that the theft had crossed the line, and that they would fight on an even playing field, no tricks. Beacon couldn’t afford to keep repairing the damage, and no one could afford Professor Goodwitch’s wrath.

 

“We need to take down Jaune first,” Ruby instructed her team, warily glancing at JNPR, standing at the other end of the arena.

“Arc?” Weiss’ nose wrinkled.

“Weiss…”

“Sorry. Force of habit.”

“Anyway,” Ruby continued, “We need to take him out, because even though he’s, well—“

“Scraggly?” Weiss snarked.

“Clumsy?” Yang smirked.

“Himself?” Blake deadpanned.

“Yes, yes and yes. But! He’s also the leader. And his team looks up to him, encourages him, doesn’t complain about his eating habits…” Ruby trailed off, casting a significant look at her sister and partner, respectively.

“Look, I won’t be sorry for complaining about the fact that you sleep over me and cookie crumbs are susceptible to gravity.”

“Just going my job, sis. At least Jaune knows that broccoli won’t kill him.”

“ANYWAYS, we need to take him out first! With his semblance, it won’t matter how many times we knock his team down. Besides, do you want lose again in front of  _ them _ ?”

The “them” in question was nearly the entire third year class, and part of the fourth year ones. Coco had a monopoly on the dueling circuits and any subsequent bets that took place in them. This was combined with a gossip ring that outstripped even Yang’s. So of course she had caught wind of a rematch between two of the most infamous teams in Beacon, and was equally quick in spreading that information and taking control of any bets placed.

What was supposed to be a private team spar was now a competition and neither team had any thoughts of losing.

“I’ll engage him and take him out!” Ruby said confidently. “There’s no way they’ll see it coming!”

 

“Ruby’s going to try to take me out,” Jaune informed his team. “Head of the snake and all that.”

“Sounds reasonable,” Pyrrha agreed, Ren and Nora nodding their agreement.

“Should we intercept?” Ren questioned.

Jaune  _ hmm _ -ed in thought. “No. I can take her. I’ve still got the larger aura reserve. Pyrrha, you engage Yang when she comes for me.”

“Of course.” Jaune failed to notice the slightly manic tinge to her grin.

“Ren, can you handle Blake?”

Ren contemplated the question. “It will be tricky. But doable.”

“Then I’ve got Weiss-y!” Nora grinned. 

“Remember team: knights can fit hard and fast, but rooks?”

“We endure!” Nora crowed.

“When knights lose their mounts, they fall, but rooks?”

“Stand tall!” Pyrrha cheered.

“And knights may lose their nerve, but against our enemies, small and large?”

“The rooks hold the line.” Ren intoned solemnly.

“Maintain and endure!” Jaune looked them each in the eye. “Never let them sway you, for we are JNPR! And we are the people’s shields!”

“Hey!” The team looked up at the stands where Coco was leaning over the railing, glaring at them with her famous sunglasses sitting on her nose. “You guys going to make inspirational cat slogans, or are you going to fight?”

“Oh-h! Right!” Jaune unsheathed his sword and turned to face their opponents. “JNPR! Ready your weapons!”

“RWBY!” Ruby, not to be outdone, called out. “Show them who’s boss!”

“You want to show Jaune who’s boss?” Yang smirked. “Kinky, sis.”

Pyrrha’s eye twitched.

“This match,” the magnified voice of Yatsuhashi echoed throughout the arena, sounding as serene as ever, “shall begin…”

Jaune’s eyes were fixed firmly on Ruby’s feet.

“NOW!”

Her ankle shifted to side a split moment before she seemed to disappear. Jaune shield arm was already moving, jerking up and to his left to meet the oversized blade that was Crescent Rose.

In order to fight a person who relied on speed, you needed a sense of where they were going to be moments ahead of time. In Jaune’s case, since he had already highly suspected that he was Ruby’s target, he needed to be able to know from which angle she was coming in from.  By observing the angle her feet were pointing at just before the match started, he knew that she was planning to flank him and attack from the side.

Shoving his weight to the side, he forced the shaft (and subsequently the barrel) of her weapon away just before she inevitably attempted to disengage by pulling the trigger. She still managed to skip away, but he was already pursuing, keeping his shield angled to deflect any shots. 

Ruby was still rather predictable, especially when her plan dissolved upon contact with the enemy. Part of her success was that people still generally tended to under-estimate her because of her size and age. This allowed her to create a series of chain attacks with her teammates that quickly overwhelmed her enemies. 

But when someone had studied her, like Jaune, success was far from certain. RWBY was predictable. Quick and powerful, but predictable.

Speaking of which…

A herald of gunshots were heard as the infamous Blonde Bombshell dropped in from the heavens. “Won’t let anything keep us apart,  _ Jauney-B _ —!“

Jaune didn’t take his eyes off of Ruby, trusting his teammates. And indeed…

CLANG! CRUNCH! 

Came the sound of something (Pyrrha) violently keeping the blonds apart.

Despite following Ruby, Yang was still an older sibling, and as such, those instincts never got turned off. So whenever she thought her sister may be having trouble, she was quick to intercede, even though it meant breaking the ranks.

Yang easily landed on her feet. “Well,  _ hello _ there P-money,” she purred. “How’s it—?”

She leap out of the way as Pyrrha’s javelin came down where she had been moments before. 

”Okay, then,” Yang’s laughter had a hint of a strain in it. “Someone’s not feeling friendly.”

 

Weiss’ legs burned from constantly propelling herself backwards. She was desperately trying to keep the metal monstrosity that Nora called a hammer away from her. Though she wasn’t as quick as Weiss herself, Nora was persistent and she was clever. She implemented quick tactics that forced Weiss to constantly be on the defensive and didn’t give her enough time to create glyphs with real stopping power. Instead, she was forced to create quicker, weaker glyphs that did do damage, but not enough to slow down the pink juggernaut.

Nora cackled wildly as Weiss’ knight was blown into shards of energy before it could even fully form. Grenades created a smokescreen that Nora gleefully took advantage of.

Growing desperate, Weiss spun her dust cylinder, and poured a significant amount of her aura into a glyph that Nora ran straight into. 

“Oh, Weissy… You shouldn’t have!”

Nora was jerking in place, her face stretched into a demented grin as electricity danced over her body.

With a sinking feeling, Weiss double checked her dust cylinder. 

The indicator was locked onto the yellow segment.

Yellow.

For lightning dust.

The last thing Weiss heard before the pink lightning claimed her was Nora’s howl of glee.

 

Blake was very well-assured of her own personal talents, but unlike her teammates, she wasn’t one to disregard possible foes before she encountered them.

And considering she’d encountered this particular foe many times and faced a difficult battle each and every occasion, she had the utmost respect for him.

Ren was a wraith, fading in and out of visibility, never doing the same thing twice, and taking bold measures. One moment, he was behind her, the next her was directly in her face. Each movement was aided by the smokescreen created by Nora, Ren’s natural speed, and his semblance.

The thing about semblances was, like one’s soul, they strengthened and evolved. Ren could already render himself invisible to the Grimm. It didn’t take long before he figured out how to make himself invisible to  _ people _ .

Really, it was simply a matter of masking his presence on a specific spectrum: people saw through a certain spectrum of light, Grimm saw emotions, etc. Nonetheless, it was an adaptive, powerful semblance that could utilized quickly, making him an awesome force of nature.

Blake struggled to hear, to smell her opponent. But the smoke and explosions limited her abilities. 

Having the nearly unconscious Weiss nearly smash into her didn’t help.

 

Ruby could be childish, naïve and a bit of a goof. Still, she wasn’t a team leader because she was pretty. She could see Weiss was all but finished, and Yang was far too preoccupied with Pyrrha to disengage. It was up to her and Blake now.

Thinking quickly, she snapped a low-grade ice dust cartridge in place (the only kind allowed in matches such as these), and fired several shots towards Ren the second he shimmered briefly back into visibility, knowing she’d pay for it.

Jaune’s impact was like being hit with an Ursa Major. The man was far stronger than he looked, after all. She’d seen him lift chairs with people (Nora) still on it with ease. Luckily, it was a glancing blow; she felt a brief moment of irritation as she realized that even in a match, Jaune was still trying not to go full out on her. 

Then she felt a small sense of relief as she remembered that Jaune’s full-out charge attack was able break down trees. 

Several of them. At a time.

The impact rattled her teeth, and made her vision blur. Still she had the presence of mind to send several shots into his breastplate to gain herself some distance. The bullets barely made him pause, but it still stuttered his charge for the spilt second it to switch out her ice dust cartridge for an electric one.

Given that he was one of the few people in the school to wear more than a few pieces of armor, the electricity dancing over his body had a significant effect. Still, it didn’t do more than slow him down, as he resolutely continued forward, ignoring the odd twitch of his limbs.

“Ladybug!" Ruby shouted. “Now!”

Having been granted a reprieve by Ruby’s quick thinking, Blake disengaged from Ren and quickly darted at Jaune. Having sensed her approach, Jaune turned to intercept, his ancestral blade swinging in a low arch. Blake easily evaded and slashed at his chest plate, sending sparks flying. Ruby continued to fire, electricity, ice and fire raining onto Jaune’s exposed back. He grunted but did not fall.

Using their superior speed, Ruby and Blake struck at the knight again and again, but still he didn’t falter. Then Blake made a mistake.

Having worked out her pattern, allowed her to hit him in the chest again, only this time, as she got close, he reached in and snagged her, slamming her head against his thick steel chest plate before bodily throwing her away.

Instead of landing on the ground however, she was round-housed in the gut midair by a suddenly appearing Ren. Laying winded on the ground, she was helpless as Ren casually strode up to her. 

“My apologies,” he said politely, before sticking Stormflower in her face and pulling the triggers.

Seeing half her team down, Ruby risked a glance at the board to check her opponent’s aura levels.

“Oh for the love of-“

Ren and Nora were sitting pretty at fifty-three and sixty-five percent, respectively. Pyrrha had a solid seventy-four percent.

Jaune was at ninety-one percent.

“What are they feeding that kid?!?”

“Pancakes, probably,”Jaune called out. His casual advance might have seemed cocky to some, but Ruby could see his limbs were still twitching. She understood immediately the reason for his slow progress was twofold: one, he was still uncoordinated by the electricity and two, he knew that she was still far too quick for him. 

Not that it meant much. Her semblance still used aura, and her reserves were laughable to his. Her heavier caliber bullets would do more ballistic damage, but the reload speed was much slower, the recoil was much harder, meaning more time would be needed to re-aim her weapon. And unless she consistently hit him with shots to the face and joints, his armor would mitigate most of the damage. 

Another person might have despaired at the odds stacked against them. Ruby Rose was not most people. Her eyes narrowed in determination.

“Rrrraaaaaaggggghhhhhh!”

A grin flashed across the Reaper’s face. The odds had just shifted.

 

Pyrrha Nikos was a gentle, kind and reserved soul. She was courteous and encouraging to all she called friends and generous to even those she would call foes.

The Invincible Girl--nay Woman--was a brutal, ruthless opponent whom, through exposure to Nora, had discovered a sadistic tendency to toy with those who annoyed her(like those who dared to flirt with her claim).

With weaker opponents, she batted them around, teasing hope and victory, only to brutally crush nearly to the point of defeat. Then she allowed them a bit of quarter, to rally themselves, pep themselves up; then she crushed them for good.

With the strong and clever however…

“ Where are you going, my friend?” Pyrrha called out in faux cheerfulness. “ I thought hand to hand was your speciality.” The Spartan’s hands were bruised, her spear on her back. Her shield was clasped almost lackadaisically in her left hand. She stalked her opponent like a Nymean, ponytail swinging as hypnotically as any cat’s. “Really, I’m doing this for your benefit. Anything to make my...friends more comfortable.”

The strong she gave the "honor" of fighting on their home turf, simply to prove a point.

Yang snarled, her hair tangled from her frantic movements. Golden strands stuck to her sweaty forehead. Her opponent wasn't as proficient with hand to hand as she was, but Pyrrha fought dirty. Literal heel stomps, digging her blade like shoes into the brawler's toes. Knees to the groin, which HURT, despite popular belief. Long nails driving into Yang’s sensitive neck joints. 

The spartan's height and outfit also gave her a distinct advantage. Pyrrha had upgraded her armor over the years. No longer serving as eye-candy, Pyrrha had added a breastplate, concealing her generous cleavage. Exposed skin had been covered with treated leather covered by thin, flexible plates. She wasn't the armored tank her partner was, but she was no less powerful or quick for her added protection.

This was a problem for Yang. Both women had around the same size aura reserves. But while Yang could spend time punching Pyrrha in the gut, the armor reduced the impact on her opponent’s aura, while Pyrrha’s armored fists had far less problems. Pyrrha’s face, the only part of her without protection--disregarding her circlet-- was an ideal target, but the extra height meant Yang had to reach ever so slightly more, which left her vurnerable to an opponent that knew when to take advantage.

Pyrrha's was definitely capable of doing so.

The worst of a Yang’s problems was, of course, Pyrrha's semblance. While her punches were certainly powerful, Ember Cecilia was what served to make them devastating. But of COURSE, her opposition was the one who could manipulate metal--only the primary crafting material for huntsmen.

Ember Cecilia had been silent nearly the entire battle. Blows that should have landed simply didn't connect. It was frustrating, and seeing her teammate and her partner rendered unconscious didn't alleviate the sensation. Which is why Yang’s filter was a bit loose at that moment. Allowing Pyrrha to latch onto her arm, she used her slightly superior strength to pull the champion in.

“He’s not going to love you, don't you get it?” she hissed into the crimson tresses. “Stop acting like a lovesick puppy and get over it already!”

The moment the words passed her lips, the bottom of Yang’s stomach seemed to open up. She hadn't meant to say that. She’d never wanted to hurt the champion like that.

She opened her mouth to apologize, but was shoved violently away. Pyrrha’s face was one she’d never seen before. An image of terrifying, unstoppable rage. 

The heaviness that had covered her guantlets for most of the match had disappeared. This was not a good thing, evidenced by Pyrrha slowly unlatching her spear from back. The Spartan of JNPR was taking her seriously now.

“P-Money…” Yang tried to reason with her. “Look, I’m so sorry--”

FWING-THUNK!

A flash of crimson flew past her face. Her head whipped around to stare at the sword quivering in the concrete and…

No…

A handful of blond strands drifted to the floor.

Lilac turned to red as Yang Xiao-Long’s regret was burned away in fiery rage.

Pyrrha gave a dark chuckle as she summoned her weapon back into her gloved hand.

“So am I.”

  
  
  



End file.
